Enlightenment
by bookweasel
Summary: Dramione fanfiction set from the Half-Blood Prince onwards. Would a relationship between a Death Eater and a muggleborn have changed the ending of the war?
1. Chapter 1

**A fanfiction I started about a year ago on wattpad. I'm editing it there so I thought I'd start posting the edited chapters here, and then continue with the new chapters onwards. I'm still carrying on my Severus/Hermione fic, it just seemed a shame to drop this. **

***Enlightenment is set in the Half-blood Prince just after Hermione sends the birds at Ron***

Hermione raced down the corridor, her infamous bushy hair whipping behind her crazily, as she attempted to clear the flurry of the thoughts whizzing around her brain. Ron was _hers_ not Lavenders, he'd _always _been hers. She'd thought of them as a couple afraid to admit their feelings for each other. Ha! She'd been wrong on that front, as the sight of Ron snogging Lavender had just proved. Hermione felt vulnerable, her heart raw and beating erratically. She skidded to a halt outside the Room of Requirement, breathing in sharply, and began to pace. _'I need a place to hide. I need somewhere to hide from the world.' _she thought fiercely, holding in her tears until a door appeared before her.

Hurrying inside, she allowed the teardrops to cascade freely down her face as she wept for her crushed dreams that featured Ron and herself as a couple, no fights, no heartbreak- just them against the world.  
"_Granger?"  
_Hermione's puffy eyes flashed up, taking in for the first time the sight of the room she'd asked for. It was definitely a place to hide- just not in the sense she'd meant. Towers of discarded (and no doubt banned, her inner prefect sniped) objects surrounded her, and in their midst was-  
"_Malfoy?"  
_Draco Malfoy stood before her, his blonde hair uncharacteristically messy, as though he'd been raking his hands through it in despair. 'We must look a right pair," Hermione mused wryly, "Draco Malfoy with untidy hair and me crying!"

For a moment, Malfoy seemed unable to comprehend the situation. He gaped at the bedraggled Gryffindor before him, his normal mask discarded in favour of an expression of extreme confusion.  
"Granger, what on _Earth_ are you doing here?" Hermione glowered at him, at which point Malfoy flinched but quickly regained his composure enough to add, "And why are you _crying_?"  
Wiping her cheeks roughly with her cardigan's threadbare sleeve, Hermione snapped, "Gosh, Malfoy, how _observant_. Clearly Slytherins aren't picked for their brains."  
To her surprise, the boy threw his head back and laughed. "Hell no, Granger. Otherwise how would Crabbe or Goyle've got in?"  
Hermione shocked herself by chuckling along with him automatically, justifying the action to her scolding mind with 'Well, it _was _funny". She grinned at the Slytherin before her, whose lips curved up slightly in response.

"I suppose that's true!" she replied, then, a little more seriously, "And to answer your question, I was crying because I just saw Ron-"  
"Sucking the face off Lavender Brown." Malfoy finished for her. Hermione nodded sheepishly. "Far be it for me to compliment you, Granger, but the Weaselbee has no taste. Why else would he pick _Lavender Brown_ over you? I mean, at least he could have a halfway decent conversation with you, whereas Brown…" he trailed off.  
The girl before him cocked her head, brown eyes boring into him, slightly narrowed and alive with curiosity. "But, I'm a _mudblood_, Malfoy," she stated, emphasizing the hateful slur.  
She expected satisfaction or even pleasure but her feelings towards his response were anything but. Malfoy gripped his wrist tightly (a gesture she didn't fully understand at the time), and his eyes pooled regret and pain and self-hatred. When he spoke, his usually sneering voice was rasping and strangled.  
"Don't call yourself that! I- I haven't thought of muggleborns like that for ages, it's just… my dad-" he broke off abruptly as the unnerved girl placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"It's alright," she breathed, "I forgive you." It was a humbling moment, Hermione thought as she reflected on the night's events later, being in a position of power over tough, armoured, emotionless Draco Malfoy, seeing him shield-less and vulnerable in remorse for his past actions. It was only then she realised she didn't know why _he'd _been in the Room of Requirement.

**DMHGDMHGDMHG**

The next day, Hermione arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast half an hour early, knowing that Malfoy generally ate earlier than his Slytherin peers. She spotted him easily, his neat blonde hair almost white in its paleness contrasting against the dark wall the Slytherin table was stationed against. He sat alone, a plate of food before him though he wasn't eating- instead he was gazing at the bewitched ceiling as though the light blue "sky" held some great mystery he wanted to uncover. His face was blank, scarily so, and when Hermione greeted him with a polite, "Good morning," he nearly jumped ten feet in astonishment.  
"Granger?"  
"Malfoy?" Hermione mimicked him, privately thinking this exchange was like de ja vu: it was almost identical to the previous night's.  
"I-um-morning?"  
"Yes…" Hermione allowed the word to trail off at the end before continuing, "I wanted to catch you before the rest of your housemates arrived and, um…"  
"Fried you for daring to contaminate the Slytherin table with your filthy mudblood germs?" suggested Malfoy, smiling wryly.  
_W__ell..._"Yes, exactly." the girl agreed, smirking. _Who knew Draco Malfoy had a sense of humour?  
_Malfoy glanced up at her quizzically, one pale eyebrow arched. "And why exactly did you want to "catch me"?" he asked curiously.  
"I wanted to thank you… um… you cheered me up last night." Hermione stated uncomfortably.  
He blinked. "Oh. Okay." he muttered, "You're welcome, Granger."

The sound of students arriving for breakfast filled their ears and Hermione made to go over to the Gryffindor table, but Malfoy grabbed her arm tightly before she could move.  
"And, Granger," he added, grinning, "Tell Potter that that _ghastly _Romilda Vane is planning on slipping him a love potion so he'll ask her to Slughorn's Christmas do. _Don't_ say I told you, though, I don't want him to think I've gone soft… but no bloke deserves _her_ going after them!"  
The Gryffindor fought a smile and turned towards her own house's table, making a mental note to warn Harry about how a little bird had told her that Romilda Vane was planning to slip him a love potion...

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	2. Chapter 2

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A few weeks after her discovery that Malfoy wasn't 100% evil to the core, Hermione found an opportunity to tell Harry about Romilda Vane. She was fairly certain it was a matter of Harry's personal safety- Romilda Vane, though immensely dim and air-headed, was extremely persevering. Every Gryffindor knew the story of Romilda's infatuation the previous year- Colin Creevey had suffered months of love-potion-spiked gifts and the inane chatter that Romilda considered flirting after she decided that photographers were _hot_. Something had to be done, and quickly.

The chance came as she and an unenthusiastic Harry ventured to the library (Hermione was refusing to sit with Ron and Lavender in the common room, having developed the curiously named 'Won-won-Lav-Lav-aphobia'), where as luck would have it, Romilda was studying. At the sight of Harry, the girl's face turned upwards, her chin rasised as she gave him a beguiling beam. Hermione grimaced- _talk about obvious._ She pulled Harry aside by the sleeve of his sweater, dragging him into the corner of the library behind one of the many mountainous shelves of books and looked him straight in the eye. At his confused expression, she took a deep breath offered up the bad news: "You need to be careful."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, his face contorting into a childish scowl.  
"For the last time," he hissed, "I'm not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in-"  
"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," snapped Hermione, all her anger at Ron threatening to surface as she glared at the Half-Blood Prince's textbook, "I'm talking about earlier."

Hermione had settled on a cover story for where she had gained the news, not wanting to confess to any friendliness with Malfoy, given Harry's current obsession with said Slytherin being a Death Eater. Heaven forbid there be any inter-house unity...

"I went into the girls' bathroom just before I lunch and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that God-awful Romilda Vane, trying to decide on how to slip you a love potion."  
Harry's green eyes flicked nervously between Hermione and Romilda, looking vaguely ill.  
"_Seriously?_"  
Hermione nodded, feeling fairly nauseous herself.

"I'm afraid so," she shrugged, smiling pityingly. "You need to remember, Harry, that _you're the Boy-Who-Lived_."  
"Oh?" Harry said, sarcastically. "Really?"

His friend laughed, her eyes sparkling, and Harry found himself wishing he could just ask her. He didn't like Hermione in _that_ way, and he knew she didn't _like_ like him either. They were like brother and sister, having, for the most part, grown up together, and, if it wasn't for the fact it would tear their currently fragile friendship with Ron apart, Harry would be sorely tempted to just ask Hermione to Slughorn's party and get it over with. At least then they would be sure to have fun.

Hermione continued talking, uncomfortably aware that her words were becoming close to a pep talk.  
"Look, Harry, you're the Boy-Who-Lived, you're captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team... And Chosen One or not, you're quite good-looking and you're a nice lad-"  
"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry laughed. "My ego's soaring now- _quite good-looking_... _nice lad_- people use those when they're breaking up with people! _**"You're quite good-looking, and you're a nice lad but..."**_"

Hermione swatted the back of his head with the text she was holding, laughing despite herself.  
"Oh, Harry- you _know_ I didn't mean it in a bad way. You're quite the catch, you know?"  
Her friend blushed, staring fixedly at the floor.  
"Yep. Yeah. Right. Thanks. Um..."

Hermione shook her head, exasperatedly, patting him on the shoulder in a fond, sympathetic manner.  
"You're cute, you know that? Whatever, you need a date, _Boy-Who-Lived_, else Vane's crew are sure as hell gonna get that Love Potion down your throat."  
Harry's expression took on a pinched look. His green eyes flicked to Hermione's uncertainly.  
"But the girl I want to ask is going out with someone."

Abruptly, Hermione rose, punching him lightly on the arm. She was well aware of who Harry meant. The whole situation was ludicrous. She leant down so her lips were next to his ear.  
"_Ask her_," she breathed, and strode away.

**DMHGDMHGDMHG**

Later, Hermione found herself wandering past the Room of Requirement, and popped in on the off-chance that her Slytherin... associate might be there. He was, much to her surprise- did he live here or something?- his blonde hair visible amongst all the clutter.  
"Oi, Malfs!" she called, amused to see him start and turn to glare at her.  
"Granger!" he exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!"  
Hermione laughed, striding forward to meet him. Draco's face was waxen, his eyes sunken in a manner that suggested he had gained little to no sleep since they had last met.

"We need to stop meeting like this," Malfoy said bluntly, interrupting her musings.  
Hermione glanced up, unsurprised but still hurt.  
"Must we?"  
"Y-yes! Of course!" Malfoy stuttered. "If anyone found us..."  
"What, they'd think the Prince of Slytherin and Princess of Gryffindor were having a sordid affair?" Hermione scoffed. "Get real. You look like you need some company anyway, why not me?"  
Malfoy cast her an incredulous look.  
"Uh, I don't know, maybe, like you so astutely pointed out, because you're the Princess of Gryffindor? Maybe 'cause you're the chosen one's best friend?"

Hermione leant forward and whispered gently in his ear, as she had done with Harry. "_So ask me to leave_."  
Malfoy stared at her, his grey eyes confused, yet he didn't jerk his face away from her's, to Hermione's pleasure. She smirked.  
"See, you need the company. Relax, Malfoy, I'm not going to go telling tales to Harry. I need someone to talk to, you need someone to talk to. Logical conclusion?"  
"_Fine_," Malfoy huffed ungraciously.  
Hermione grinned impishly.  
"Great!"  
Malfoy's face remained unimpressed and sour, yet he hadn't hexed her yet so she had hope.

"I came to tell you that Harry is no longer blissfully unaware of Romilda Vane and has a date to Slughorn's Party. Thanks for giving me the tip- and no, he doesn't know."  
"Who?"  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Who's Potter's date? Not... you?" Malfoy asked curiously.  
Hermione barked a laugh, thinking of when Harry had told her the answer to the same question.

"Don't laugh... Luna Lovegood."

They avoided each other's eyes pointedly, yet somehow, by the end of the next minute, they were rolling on the floor in fits of hilarity. _Luna Lovegood!_

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	3. Chapter 3

Having calmed down, Hermione and Draco slumped against the wall.  
"So who are you going with, Weasley?" Draco asked.  
"Weren't you there in Transfiguration?" Hermione scoffed. "Ron was taking the piss out of me for the whole class' amusement. Hardly Romeo."  
"Well, he was pretty accurate- ouch!"  
Hermione had slapped the top of Draco's blonde head.  
"Shut up, Malfoy."  
He smirked at her.  
"So who _are _you going with?" he pressed.  
Hermione sniffed.  
"No one at the moment. I'm thinking."  
Malfoy rose, shrugging.  
"Well, when you feel like telling me... Just don't ask Weasley. Your every interaction with him leaves you looking like a drowned rat."  
_Was that concern in Malfoy's voice?!_ Hermione smiled at him.  
"Not a chance. Uh... I'd be around at dinner if I were you. Just saying... you might want to be there."  
Malfoy threw her a puzzled look.  
"Whatever. Laters, Granger."  
"Laters, Malfoy."

**HGDMHGDMHGDM**

Hermione arrived at dinner that evening to find that everyone in the school seemed to know about Harry and Luna. She sincerely hoped Malfoy hadn't blabbed.  
"You could've taken_ anyone_!" was Ron's reaction. "_Anyone!_ And you chose Loony Lovegood!  
His sister cast him a disproving glance, looking the image of their mother.  
"Don't call her that, Ron," she snapped, turning to Harry. "I'm really glad you're taking her, Harry, she's so excited."  
Hermione, eavesdropping from further down the table, smirked at Harry's pleased flush. She could tell he was trying to be happy at what Ginny had said but was failing miserably- after all, it was Ginny he actually wanted to take to the party.

Parvati slid into a seat beside Harry, the pair of them exchanging an embarrassed glance at the antics of Ron and Lavender beside them. She caught Hermione's eye and blushed.  
"Oh, hi, Hermione!"  
Parvati was being extra nice, Hermione suspected she felt guilty about laughing at Ron's snide imitations of her in Transfiguration before. She was absolutely _not _forgiven but Hermione knew it'd wind Ron up more if she continued this seemingly natural girly conversation with Parvati (_not_ that she'd pre-planned the whole chatter, Parvati and Lavender were hopelessly predictable when it came to boy talk) so she smiled and said, "Hi, Parvati! Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"  
"No invite," Parvati sighed, her shoulders dropping. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... you're going aren't you?"  
"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight and we're-"  
There was a sound like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink as Ron detached himself from Lavender's lips and turned to gape at Hermione. She ignored him pointedly. _The plan's working._

How to annoy Ronald Bilius Weasley: go to the Slug Club Christmas do with the boy he only just beat at the Quidditch tryouts- Cormac McLaggen. It was, Hermione thought smiling sweetly, a _truly_ brilliant idea. McLaggen was a prat, he'd drove her insane, but seeing the look on Ron's face as she chattered Parvati was reward enough for her to decide a few hours of inane conversation could be tolerated.  
"Cormac?" Parvati gasped, "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

By now, Hermione had the whole Hall's attention. Ginny was grinning, having been briefed on the whole plan previously, Harry looked stuck between amusement and irritation, Parvati was goggling ("_NO!_ Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen…"), Lavender was scowling, Ron was blatantly staring away from Hermione with his head cocked slightly so he could still hear everything, and Draco… Draco was shaking his head, laughing incredulously. Hermione caught his eye, he winked and suddenly the lies fell from her lips in a freer, more exaggerated fashion.  
"I like _really good _Quidditch players," she corrected Parvati, her tinkling giggles amused, "Well, see you… got to go get ready for the party…"

Having enacted her revenge, she swept out of the hall, followed swiftly but discretely by Draco Malfoy. She turned to face him, smiling widely, slightly high off the whole scene. He grinned.  
"Wow, Granger, I've always known girls take vengeance seriously but I never thought you were such a bitch. You had all claws out there!" he chuckled.  
Hermione smirked, "You know, on top of the whole Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw thing, the Sorting Hat did have trouble with the fact that I was 99% Slytherin. I was pretty much destined for your House, only the Hat didn't think the whole blood status thing would work in my favour."  
Draco roared with laughter.  
"Whoever would've guessed! The Gryffindor Princess would've been better off in Slytherin!"  
Hermione shrugged false- nonchalantly. Draco was still shaking with silent chuckles.  
"So, McLaggen, _eh_?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  
She shoved him lightly.  
"_Shut up!_"  
"No can do, Granger," Draco smirked, "You know, this I've got to see. You hate the guy, why on Earth…?"  
He trailed off and Hermione groaned, rolling her brown eyes. It all seemed so petty now.  
"I was thinking about who would annoy Ron the most, and McLaggen's been asking me out for agessssss…"  
Draco snorted.  
"Ahem, Grange', my darling, you missed the obvious. _Moi._" he pointed to himself, winking saucily.  
Hermione grinned.  
"Yeah, right. As if you'd ever go out with me."  
"I would do…" he countered thoughtfully, "Anyway, annoying Ron Weasley? Do you honestly think I'd miss out on that?"

The bell for the end of lunch rang and there was a crash as the students in the hall rose and began to make their way out. Hermione walked away, Draco calling after her, "Oi! Granger! I might pop in on this party to see how you and your _boyfriend_ are getting along!"  
She turned, smiling sweetly, two fingers raised in a pointed gesture, and stuck her tongue out. Her friend smirked and faded into the crowd.

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	4. Chapter 4

Several hours later, Draco began to make his way down to Slughorn's office, gleefully anticipating a scene in which he rescued a certain Gryffindor from boring McLaggen. He hadn't yet reconciled with fact that he was planning to do any rescuing, never mind rescuing a _Gryffindor muggleborn_. Sadly for Draco and a bored-out –of-her-mind Hermione, he had the misfortune to walk straight into Filch, who dragged him straight to the Slug Club party and straight into trouble. Snape, as bat like and un-Christmassy as ever, strode into a classroom insisting Draco followed and proceeded to give him a lecture. "You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"

Snape was fuming, but Draco was just as enraged. Though he would never admit it, Draco enjoyed talking to Granger- it was a rare thing indeed for him to get the opportunity to speak to an intelligent girl his own age (air headed Pansy could only be tolerated if there was no one else better about). He had been looking forward to making a half-decent conversation with Granger, especially now he knew she had nearly been a Slytherin. Granger seemed to have a lot of interesting secrets and troubles and he needed a confidant, so confessing to each other was, he reasoned, a win-win situation. However, Snape and Filch had both destroyed what was looking to be a fun evening, and Draco was more than a little annoyed.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?" he exploded.  
He was tired, he was angry; he wanted the whole bloody thing to be over. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to live a normal teenage life. He didn't want to kill someone.  
"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it," his Head of House snarled.  
_Potter_, Draco recognised with an internal growl. The conversation went on and on and on, yet all he could think of was that he needed _Hermione_. He needed a sympathetic, wise face to soothe him, and aid him. He wanted to escape.

After Snape finally gave up, Draco ran- in a dignified _Malfoy_ manner- to the Room of Requirement. He was not surprised to see a familiar bushy head there too.  
"Granger." he said, in greeting.  
"Malfoy."  
He frowned. Her reply was cool, short. She was upset. He sat down beside her and tentatively took one of her hands.  
"'S up, Granger?" he asked, softly.  
She glanced at him warily, as though checking whether she could trust him. He smiled encouragingly and she launched into her story.  
"McLaggen! I thought he was the solution to all my problems! I thought Ron would stop it all and ask me out! I thought, I thought… I don't even know what to think anymore, because getting to know you I can see you've got problems just like me, so I can't hate you! Harry thinks… Harry says you're a Death Eater and I-" she yanked up his sleeve to reveal the horrific tattoo on his forearm, "…I concur."

Draco slumped, absolutely horrified. She knew. Potter suspected. _She knew. Hermione Granger knew._ And he didn't want her to. He didn't want to see the fear, the shame, and the disgust in her beautiful brown eyes. He wanted respect, love, care. Damn Voldemort for messing that all up.

He jumped at the soft landing of Hermione's hand upon his shoulder. Gently, she pulled him into her embrace, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder.  
"Draco," she breathed, her warm breath tickling his cheek, "tell me everything."

He did.

Draco told of being tortured, then, worse, having to watch his parents' torture. Of his fear of the Dark Lord. Of the pain he felt both in his heart and body as he completed the Death Eater initiation process and received his Dark Mark. Of being given his task to kill Dumbledore. Of feigning glee and excitement at the thought of it. Of hearing that his godfather, Severus, had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him. Of cursing Katie Bell when all his other plans failed.

And when he had finished, and cried his last tear, Hermione whispered the words he would never ever forget: "Draco, I forgive you."

**HGDMHGDMHGDM**

Hermione spent the Christmas Holidays frantically reading. Her parents picked up on it but simply smiled and shrugged it off- Hermione read all the time anyway, it was in her nature. If they had bothered to read the books' titles, perhaps they wouldn't' have been quite so blasé. After all, Dark Arts for Death Eaters and Dark Marks for Dummies aren't exactly the sort of works the average teenage girl on the side of the Order of the Phoenix is usually seen reading, not that her parents knew anything of the war anyway.

Hermione was researching as much as she could into the Death Eaters, especially how to remove Dark Marks and how well Voldemort took people leaving his side. As she had rather glumly expected, and hoped to prove wrong, Dark Marks were permanent and Voldemort took the rather lovely view that leaving his side made you a traitor, and that if he were you, he'd be counting down the seconds of life left. Her research had required reading some fairly gruesome books detailing exactly what a good Death Eater should do if they found a muggleborn alone, and Hermione found herself freaking out about the number of curses Draco could have potentially hit her with all those times in the Room of Requirement if he'd been so inclined.

Whenever these thoughts struck her, Hermione would shake her head and remind herself that she and Draco were _friends_ (sort of) and she wasn't going to get him out of this mess by not trusting him. So, instead, she worried about him being home with the rest of his family. Draco swore his parents weren't as cruel or evil as she thought. She doubted this- after all, what sort of parents allow their son to join the Death Eaters? But Draco was adamant that his parents had made poor choices and were now living with them, never mind the facade they put on in public, and he knew them better, so she reluctantly let the debate drop.

**HGDMHGDMHGDM**

Arriving back at Hogwarts, Hermione found out the new Gryffindor Common Room password and made her way straight to the Room of Requirement. As she'd expected, Draco was there, but he looked greyer and gaunter than before the holidays. She hurried over to him, with an anxious, "Draco?"  
She didn't allow herself to think about why he was now 'Draco' in her mind, rather than 'Malfoy'. They were both in far too deep for that.

_Draco_ turned to her, his pale features twisted from his attempts to not cry. When he spoke, his voice was low and dead; there was no hope in it at all.  
"He wasn't happy with my progress in my... task. He- he threatened me. He said- he said my parents and I... we'd all die if I didn't complete his task soon."  
Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath. Her brown eyes flicked over Draco's ashen face and lifeless eyes, suddenly spitting with rage at the cowering wreck Voldemort had made him.  
"Draco," she said, softly but still assertively, "I have a... plan, of sorts... and I think it's time to put it in motion, kid."

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	5. Chapter 5

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Draco turned to her, his face contorted in a strange mixture of horror and relief.  
"You," he stated, bluntly, "Are bloody scary at times."  
Hermione cocked an eyebrow in a manner that was both teasing and intimidating. Her brown eyes seemed to have lost their bright, happy spark and her gaze seemed to have turned more steely.  
"How so?" she asked, coolly.  
Draco gaped, wondering if she had been spending too much time with Potter and Weasley: apparently stupidity was contagious.  
"You're suggesting we put a half-finished plan into action? Come on, Granger, this is _Voldemort_. If we're going to outsmart him, our plan needs to be _flawless_," he was enunciating exaggeratedly to make his point. "You haven't even told me what this 'plan' is!"

Hermione shrugged, unsure where this out of character nonchalance had come from but finding she actually rather liked not over thinking everything. She glanced at him sideways, her eyes slightly narrowed from his return to surnames.  
"Well, _Malfoy_," Draco winced at the harsh tone of her voice when it came to his name, "I never said anything about outsmarting Voldemort, did I? I was more thinking about slipping under his radar, say... leaving school? We could leave tonight, I reckon, and he wouldn't know until morning."

Draco's jaw dropped incredulously, wondering where the hell Hermione Granger's common sense had wandered off too, and whether a few of her marbles had rolled off with it, because this was _insane_. He stared at her, trying to inject some humour and rationality into the situation.  
"That," he told her simply, "is bull. As if _you_ would just ditch school."  
His Gryffindor associate smiled in a daunting manner, accepting the challenge.  
"You reckon?" she asked, her voice lilting are careless, more like the Hermione he'd exchanged sarcastic and wry jokes with over the past weeks.  
"Yeah, yeah I do," he replied, grinning. "You love school. Hell, your colour-coded revision timetables are the stuff of Hogwarts legend!"

Hermione threw her head back in laughter, conceding the point.  
"Okay, yeah, I will miss school. But those colour-coded days are gone now. I wasn't friends with you then," she said, inserting some solemnity into her voice as her manner became more serious again. "But I'm not going to just ditch you, Draco, not when you have a chance of not becoming a murderer or being killed. I'll tell you what we're going to do."  
She sat down on the floor and Draco mimicked her actions, feeling slightly worried now. She evidently cared a lot about him- as he did her- and he had no desire to drag her down with him

"We," Hermione began, "Are going to pack a bag each. Then we are going to ask members of Dumbledore's Army to meet us here, using these-" she held up a DA false galleon. She had kept it in her pocket always since last year, just in case "- and I imagine that hardly any will turn up, it'll only be the most devoted. Then, we will ask them to each pack a bag. We will ask them to wait here. Then we will go to Professor Dumbledore. We will ask him to accompany us to your manor. We will tell your parents everything and take them to the Order of the Phoenix's HQ, where they will be safe. Then, with Dumbledore's permission, we and the DA will leave. From there onwards, Harry's got a plan that'll bring Voldemort down."

Draco blinked. That was actually quite clever, if far-fetched, and he was definitely willing to give her plan a chance.  
"I'll repeat what I said before," he said, "You are bloody scary at times. But at other times, you're bloody brilliant."  
Hermione smirked and made a sarcastic curtsey, but then she was straight back to business, sensible forward-planning Hermione Granger once more.  
"Right, we really need to start moving, like, _NOW_. You go to your Dorms and get your essentials packed. Don't under pack. You'll need lots of clothes, toiletries… I dunno, a pillow… your teddy-" Draco scoffed "- anything that'll be any use on the run. And don't tell _anyone_ what you're doing. Be back here in ten minutes tops."  
She turned to leave at a sprint, and then stopped at the door, flashing him a smile.  
"Oh, and Draco? Use an undetectable extension charm on your bag."  
She winked, and vanished into the corridor outside.

Draco sat where he was, gaping, for a second, and then slowly rose to his feet, pondering as he walked. She really is going to save me. She's willing to risk her life to help me. He had never felt more undeserving or more like scum. He really hated himself.

The Slytherin common room was packed, as per (Slytherins were a very unsociable bunch and rarely ventured out of the pureblood sanctuary of the dungeons), but no one paid him any attention as he ran to the dorms. As luck would have it, these were empty, and he began packing straight away. Jumpers… trainers… more and more clothes… his pillow… his teddy snake Humphrey… and, oh! A vial of Polyjuice potion! Might as well bring it...

He was done. This era of his life, the Hogwarts days, was over. And, he realised abruptly, this was possibly the last time he would ever see his Slytherin dorms, and his (sort-of) friends Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle… Yet, he couldn't betray the plan by bidding them goodbye. He felt a pang of regret and sorrow, and sat down with a slump on his bed.

There were so many fond memories etched into these Hogwarts walls: the Slytherin Unofficial Christmas Party last year (organised by Blaise, Pansy and himself), during which Slytherin House drank their way through 689 bottles of Firewhisky and 896 bottles of Butterbeer until Snape's untimely arrival (Slytherin House lost a total of 19,457 house points, putting them below the _Hufflepuffs_ (it was worth it though))... Oh, and the time he and his mates had dressed up as Dementors in third year to scare Potter (genius, if he did say so himself)- only to have Potter send a Patronus at them (Draco reluctantly conceded that Potter's reflexes were by far superior to his own)... And the time in fourth year he and Blaise broke into Professor McGonagall's quarters, and found some of her tartan, lace underwear (he couldn't look at her for weeks afterwards without laughing)... And in third year when quiet, bookish Hermione Granger had thumped him…

**DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHG**

Meanwhile, Hermione had raced to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was mercifully empty (the Gryffindors _were_ a sociable crowd), and into the dorms. For a moment, she paused in the doorway and reminisced of times past. Of times in the first few years at Hogwarts (before things got serious and they started rowing more and Percy became an even bigger prick) when she would play Exploding Snap with Harry, Ron, Ginny, the twins and Percy late at night under the amber glow and warmth of the fire in the common room... Of girlie chats with Ginny, telling the younger girl that Harry _would_ come round (Hermione was fairly certain it'd be pretty soon too)... Of talking late into the night with Parvati and Lavender in the weeks coming up to the Yule Ball about dresses and makeup and who was going with who (they never _did_ manage to figure out who she was going with)... Of snowball fights and punching Draco in third year (she was still really proud of that)... Of really enjoying researching for her homework because she was a muggleborn and still found magic _amazing_…

Hermione shook her head. She was a practical girl, and a job needed doing. She set about packing everything she thought she might possibly need into a tiny beaded bag she was saving for _something_ (she just didn't know what) with the help of the aforementioned Undetectable Extension charm. By the time she'd asked the House-Elves to pack her some food, the whole situation was feeling incredibly serious.

**Please review!  
bookweasel**


	6. Chapter 6

Several hours later, Draco began to make his way down to Slughorn's office, gleefully anticipating a scene in which he rescued a certain Gryffindor from boring McLaggen. He hadn't yet reconciled with fact that he was planning to do any rescuing, never mind rescuing a _Gryffindor muggleborn_. Sadly for Draco and a bored-out –of-her-mind Hermione, he had the misfortune to walk straight into Filch, who dragged him straight to the Slug Club party and straight into trouble. Snape, as bat like and un-Christmassy as ever, strode into a classroom insisting Draco followed and proceeded to give him a lecture. "You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"

Snape was fuming, but Draco was just as enraged. Though he would never admit it, Draco enjoyed talking to Granger- it was a rare thing indeed for him to get the opportunity to speak to an intelligent girl his own age (air headed Pansy could only be tolerated if there was no one else better about). He had been looking forward to making a half-decent conversation with Granger, especially now he knew she had nearly been a Slytherin. Granger seemed to have a lot of interesting secrets and troubles and he needed a confidant, so confessing to each other was, he reasoned, a win-win situation. However, Snape and Filch had both destroyed what was looking to be a fun evening, and Draco was more than a little annoyed.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?" he exploded. He was tired, he was angry; he wanted the whole bloody thing to be over. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to live a normal teenage life. He didn't want to kill someone. "I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it," his Head of House snarled. _Potter_, Draco recognised with an internal growl. The conversation went on and on and on, yet all he could think of was that he needed _Hermione_. He needed a sympathetic, wise face to soothe him, and aid him. He wanted to escape.

After Snape finally gave up, Draco ran- in a dignified _Malfoy_ manner- to the Room of Requirement. He was not surprised to see a familiar bushy head there too. "Granger." he said, in greeting. "Malfoy." He frowned. Her reply was cool, short. She was upset. He sat down beside her and tentatively took one of her hands. "'S up, Granger?" he asked, softly. She glanced at him warily, as though checking whether she could trust him. He smiled encouragingly and she launched into her story. "McLaggen! I thought he was the solution to all my problems! I thought Ron would stop it all and ask me out! I thought, I thought… I don't even know what to think anymore, because getting to know you I can see you've got problems just like me, so I can't hate you! Harry thinks… Harry says you're a Death Eater and I-" she yanked up his sleeve to reveal the horrific tattoo on his forearm, "…I concur."

Draco slumped, absolutely horrified. She knew. Potter suspected. _She knew. Hermione Granger knew._ And he didn't want her to. He didn't want to see the fear, the shame, and the disgust in her beautiful brown eyes. He wanted respect, love, care. Damn Voldemort for messing that all up.

He jumped at the soft landing of Hermione's hand upon his shoulder. Gently, she pulled him into her embrace, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder. "Draco," she breathed, her warm breath tickling his cheek, "tell me everything."

He did.

Draco told of being tortured, then, worse, having to watch his parents' torture. Of his fear of the Dark Lord. Of the pain he felt both in his heart and body as he completed the Death Eater initiation process and received his Dark Mark. Of being given his task to kill Dumbledore. Of feigning glee and excitement at the thought of it. Of hearing that his godfather, Severus, had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him. Of cursing Katie Bell when all his other plans failed.

And when he had finished, and cried his last tear, Hermione whispered the words he would never ever forget: "Draco, I forgive you."

**HGDMHGDMHGDM**

Hermione spent the Christmas Holidays frantically reading. Her parents picked up on it but simply smiled and shrugged it off- Hermione read all the time anyway, it was in her nature. If they had bothered to read the books' titles, perhaps they wouldn't' have been quite so blasé. After all, Dark Arts for Death Eaters and Dark Marks for Dummies aren't exactly the sort of works the average teenage girl on the side of the Order of the Phoenix is usually seen reading, not that her parents knew anything of the war anyway.

Hermione was researching as much as she could into the Death Eaters, especially how to remove Dark Marks and how well Voldemort took people leaving his side. As she had rather glumly expected, and hoped to prove wrong, Dark Marks were permanent and Voldemort took the rather lovely view that leaving his side made you a traitor, and that if he were you, he'd be counting down the seconds of life left. Her research had required reading some fairly gruesome books detailing exactly what a good Death Eater should do if they found a muggleborn alone, and Hermione found herself freaking out about the number of curses Draco could have potentially hit her with all those times in the Room of Requirement if he'd been so inclined.

Whenever these thoughts struck her, Hermione would shake her head and remind herself that she and Draco were _friends_ (sort of) and she wasn't going to get him out of this mess by not trusting him. So, instead, she worried about him being home with the rest of his family. Draco swore his parents weren't as cruel or evil as she thought. She doubted this- after all, what sort of parents allow their son to join the Death Eaters? But Draco was adamant that his parents had made poor choices and were now living with them, never mind the facade they put on in public, and he knew them better, so she reluctantly let the debate drop.

After all, she had been wrong about Draco.

**HGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM**

"_Horcruxes_?" Hermione repeated, frantically flipping through books in the library. "You're sure that's what he said?"  
"Positive," Harry replied dully. "He said he wanted to know what Slughorn knew about horcruxes."  
"How can it not be in any book?!" Hermione demanded rhetorically, a little disappointed at the library's failure to provide answers. "It must be really bad..."  
"Well, yeah," Harry smirked, "this is _Voldemort_ we're talking about."  
"Quit the sass, Harry," Hermione said, restraining a laugh. "Hang on, I'll just try... _accio horcrux books!_"  
A few books wiggled faintly on their shelves. Well, it was worth a look.

Hermione pulled down a copy of Magick Moste Evile, pulling a face.  
"'_Of the horcrux, wickedest of magical intentions, we shall not speak nor give direction...' _why bother mentioning it then?"  
She glared at the tired, yellowing pages.  
"I dunno," Harry sighed, bored. "Listen Hermione, I have a, erm... _homework assignment_, yeah... um, due. I'll just be... off..."  
"What? Yeah, yeah," Hermione waved him on distractedly. "Whatever."

She turned almost instantaneously back to her reading, oblivious to any signs of life around her until... _thud, thud_. Hermione glanced up, startled, at the muffled sound. No one else seemed to have noticed, not even Madam Pince. Everyone was too busy chatting to even see the... books? thudding lightly against the window glass. _What on earth_? Hermione cast a furtive look around her, and slipped over to the window. Quietly, she retrived the books and glanced over the covers. 'Immortality and I', 'Life without Death', and _yes! _'Horcruxes: A necessary evil?'

Hermione grimaced but slipped the books into her bag. Time to find Harry.

**HGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM**

She found him in a corner of the common room, surrounded by sweet wrappers and in the middle of a game of wizard's chess.  
"You can quit that," she said tartly, dropping the books onto the table with a soft thud. "While you've been _playing_, I've actually found something out."  
Both boys turned to her reluctantly, Ron keenly avoiding her eye.  
"Well, go on then," Harry pressed. "Spill."  
Hermione shot him a frosty glare.  
"You can quit talking to me like that as well," she snapped, before her eyes softened and she said, "It's not good, I'm afraid. Voldemort's made himself nigh on impossible to kill."

Harry smacked his head on the table. "Ugh. Go on then, why?"  
"Horcruxes," Hermione replied simply. "He's made horcruxes. I'm not entirely sure how, just that you have to- to kill someone to do so. You have to get rid of all his horcruxes before you can kill him."  
"And how many are there?" Ron asked with a groan.  
"I don't know." Hermione shrugged. "I would guess at seven, 'cause its the most magical number going. Voldemort wouldn't miss the symbolism."  
"_SEVEN_!" Harry yelped. "Ugh, we're doomed."  
"No, we're not." Hermione said awkwardly. "'Cause you've already got rid of one, I think."  
"Wha- the diary?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Then... Dumbledore's ring?"  
Hermione shrugged. "I expect."  
"That's what we have to do, then." Harry said, nodding. "Kill the horcruxes, then kill him."  
Ron looked from Hermione to Harry. "Two down, five to go."

**In canon, Hermione accioed the books on horcruxes after Dumbledore's death. The same thing's happened here, just earlier than it does in the books :)**

**Please review, ****_Bookweasel_**


	7. Chapter 7

It was a couple of days after the holidays before Hermione was able to slip away to the Room of Requirement. As she'd expected, Draco was there, but he looked greyer and gaunter than before the holidays. She hurried over to him, with an anxious, "Draco?" She didn't allow herself to think about why he was now 'Draco' in her mind, rather than 'Malfoy'. They were both in far too deep for that.

_Draco_ turned to her, his pale features twisted from his attempts to not cry. When he spoke, his voice was low and dead; there was no hope in it at all. "He wasn't happy with my progress in my... task. He- he threatened me. He said- he said my parents and I... we'd all die if I didn't complete his task soon."  
Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath. Her brown eyes flicked over Draco's ashen face and lifeless eyes, suddenly spitting with rage at the cowering wreck Voldemort had made him. "Draco," she said, softly but still assertively, "I have a... plan, of sorts... and I think it's time to put it in motion, kid."

Draco turned to her, his face contorted in a strange mixture of horror and relief. "You," he stated, bluntly, "Are bloody scary at times." Hermione cocked an eyebrow in a manner that was both teasing and intimidating. Her brown eyes seemed to have lost their bright, happy spark and her gaze seemed to have turned more steely. "How so?" she asked, coolly. Draco gaped, wondering if she had been spending too much time with Potter and Weasley: apparently stupidity was contagious. "You're suggesting we put a half-finished plan into action? Come on, Granger, this is _Voldemort_. If we're going to outsmart him, our plan needs to be _flawless_," he was enunciating exaggeratedly to make his point. "You haven't even told me what this 'plan' is!"

Hermione shrugged, unsure where this out of character nonchalance had come from but finding she actually rather liked not over thinking everything. She glanced at him sideways, her eyes slightly narrowed from his return to surnames. "Well, _Malfoy_," Draco winced at the harsh tone of her voice when it came to his name, "I never said anything about outsmarting Voldemort, did I? I was more thinking about slipping under his radar, say... leaving school? We could leave tonight, I reckon, and he wouldn't know until morning."

Draco's jaw dropped incredulously, wondering where the hell Hermione Granger's common sense had wandered off too, and whether a few of her marbles had rolled off with it, because this was _insane_. He stared at her, trying to inject some humour and rationality into the situation. "That," he told her simply, "is bull. As if _you_ would just ditch school." His Gryffindor associate smiled in a daunting manner, accepting the challenge. "You reckon?" she asked, her voice lilting are careless, more like the Hermione he'd exchanged sarcastic and wry jokes with over the past weeks. "Yeah, yeah I do," he replied, grinning. "You love school. Hell, your colour-coded revision timetables are the stuff of Hogwarts legend!"

Hermione threw her head back in laughter, conceding the point. "Okay, yeah, I will miss school. But those colour-coded days are gone now. I wasn't friends with you then," she said, inserting some solemnity into her voice as her manner became more serious again. "But I'm not going to just ditch you, Draco, not when you have a chance of not becoming a murderer or being killed. I'll tell you what we're going to do." She sat down on the floor and Draco mimicked her actions, feeling slightly worried now. She evidently cared a lot about him- as he did her- and he had no desire to drag her down with him

"We," Hermione began, "Are going to pack a bag each. Then we are going to ask members of Dumbledore's Army to meet us here, using these-" she held up a DA false galleon. She had kept it in her pocket always since last year, just in case "- and I imagine that hardly any will turn up, it'll only be the most devoted. Then, we will ask them to each pack a bag. We will ask them to wait here. Then we will go to Professor Dumbledore. We will ask him to accompany us to your manor. We will tell your parents everything and take them to the Order of the Phoenix's HQ, where they will be safe. Then, with Dumbledore's permission, we and the DA will leave. From there onwards, Harry's got a plan that'll bring Voldemort down."

Draco blinked. That was actually quite clever, if far-fetched, and he was definitely willing to give her plan a chance. "I'll repeat what I said before," he said, "You are bloody scary at times. But at other times, you're bloody brilliant." Hermione smirked and made a sarcastic curtsey, but then she was straight back to business, sensible forward-planning Hermione Granger once more. "Right, we really need to start moving, like, _NOW_. You go to your Dorms and get your essentials packed. Don't under pack. You'll need lots of clothes, toiletries… I dunno, a pillow… your teddy-" Draco scoffed "- anything that'll be any use on the run. And don't tell _anyone_ what you're doing. Be back here in ten minutes tops." She turned to leave at a sprint, and then stopped at the door, flashing him a smile. "Oh, and Draco? Use an undetectable extension charm on your bag." She winked, and vanished into the corridor outside.

Draco sat where he was, gaping, for a second, and then slowly rose to his feet, pondering as he walked. She really is going to save me. She's willing to risk her life to help me. He had never felt more undeserving or more like scum. He really hated himself.

The Slytherin common room was packed, as per (Slytherins were a very unsociable bunch and rarely ventured out of the pureblood sanctuary of the dungeons), but no one paid him any attention as he ran to the dorms. As luck would have it, these were empty, and he began packing straight away. Jumpers… trainers… more and more clothes… his pillow… his teddy snake Humphrey… and, oh! A vial of Polyjuice potion! Might as well bring it...

He was done. This era of his life, the Hogwarts days, was over. And, he realised abruptly, this was possibly the last time he would ever see his Slytherin dorms, and his (sort-of) friends Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle… Yet, he couldn't betray the plan by bidding them goodbye. He felt a pang of regret and sorrow, and sat down with a slump on his bed.

There were so many fond memories etched into these Hogwarts walls: the Slytherin Unofficial Christmas Party last year (organised by Blaise, Pansy and himself), during which Slytherin House drank their way through 689 bottles of Firewhisky and 896 bottles of Butterbeer until Snape's untimely arrival (Slytherin House lost a total of 19,457 house points, putting them below the _Hufflepuffs_ (it was worth it though))... Oh, and the time he and his mates had dressed up as Dementors in third year to scare Potter (genius, if he did say so himself)- only to have Potter send a Patronus at them (Draco reluctantly conceded that Potter's reflexes were by far superior to his own)... And the time in fourth year he and Blaise broke into Professor McGonagall's quarters, and found some of her tartan, lace underwear (he couldn't look at her for weeks afterwards without laughing)... And in third year when quiet, bookish Hermione Granger had thumped him…

**DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHG**

Meanwhile, Hermione had raced to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was mercifully empty (the Gryffindors _were_ a sociable crowd), and into the dorms. For a moment, she paused in the doorway and reminisced of times past. Of times in the first few years at Hogwarts (before things got serious and they started rowing more and Percy became an even bigger prick) when she would play Exploding Snap with Harry, Ron, Ginny, the twins and Percy late at night under the amber glow and warmth of the fire in the common room... Of girlie chats with Ginny, telling the younger girl that Harry _would_ come round (Hermione was fairly certain it'd be pretty soon too)... Of talking late into the night with Parvati and Lavender in the weeks coming up to the Yule Ball about dresses and makeup and who was going with who (they never _did_ manage to figure out who she was going with)... Of snowball fights and punching Draco in third year (she was still really proud of that)... Of really enjoying researching for her homework because she was a muggleborn and still found magic _amazing_…

Hermione shook her head. She was a practical girl, and a job needed doing. She set about packing everything she thought she might possibly need into a tiny beaded bag she was saving for _something_ (she just didn't know what) with the help of the aforementioned Undetectable Extension charm. By the time she'd asked the House-Elves to pack her some food, the whole situation was feeling incredibly serious.

**Please review! bookweasel**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! Quick question: I keep getting asked to put more spaces between the text but every time I try, and it doesn't matter if I double or even triple space between paragraphs, the Doc Manager changes it back to a single line. I'm really confused does anyone know how to fix this?**

No one but the two women ever knew what Hermione said to Narcissa. All anyone saw was Hermione's lips move and then Narcissa's reluctant nod. The lady of Malfoy Manor rose up elegantly and looked her son's Headmaster squarely in the eye.  
"I'll come," she said graciously. "Thank you."  
Dumbledore nodded in his, kindly, grandfatherly way.  
"I'll go pack, if you'd like to retire to the lounge," Narcissa said, awkwardly. "It's through that door there." She pointed. "The Dark Lord is away at this time so you will be perfectly safe."  
Hermione glanced up at her. "Would you like help packing?"  
Narcissa hesitated a moment, then nodded, falteringly. "Please."

Hermione followed Narcissa up a wide, grand staircase, straight out of a Disney Princess palace, staring about her in awe. No wonder Draco was so spoilt, growing up surrounded by such grandeur. Narcissa gestured her into a large bedroom, and began pulling items out of the wardrobe, chest of drawers, en suite... She threw Hermione a conjured bag.  
"If you could put them inside?" she asked, quietly. "Please."  
Hermione nodded, beginning to fill the bag with the clothes, toiletries, books and other miscellanea that Mrs Malfoy had piled up on the floor. Upon reaching for a pair of emerald, silk boxers, she had to bite her lip hard to prevent any giggles escaping. _I just touched Lucius Malfoy's underwear!_

They worked mostly in silence, until Mrs Malfoy turned to her abruptly and said, "Are you and my son-?"  
"Dating? No!" Hermione scoffed, embarrassed. "Just friends."  
Narcissa shrank the bag with an elaborate wave of her wand, pursing red-lipsticked lips.  
"When did you start being... friends?"she asked, curiosity colouring her tone.  
Hermione thought back, tapping her wand on her knee absently.  
"I'm not sure, really. It was only this year. I found him in the Room of Requirement- I was crying I saw Ron... well, never mind... but we weren't friends then, not really..." she shook her head, flustered. "Sorry."  
Narcissa gave her a small smile. Her grey eyes flashed to her son's newest friend's face, cautiously probing.  
"What is your opinion of my son?" she asked quietly.  
Hermione started, her brown eyes darting up to and locking onto Narcissa's. They both knew a lot was riding on her answer.  
"Draco is..." she paused, reflectively, then continued simply, "... one of the bravest people I know."

**HGDMHGDM**

Narcissa left Hermione in the lounge with Draco, Dumbledore and McGonagall as she went to fetch her husband, who had, up until now, been oblivious to their presence in his home. The minutes seemed to tick by even slower without the preoccupation of packing the Malfoys' bag, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room seeming to tick obnoxiously loudly.

She wasn't the only restless person in the room either: Professor McGonagall was growing more and more agitated until _finally_, Narcissa re-joined them, holding onto her husband's arm. Lucius looked more relaxed than either the Professors or Hermione had ever seen him, laughing at his slight wife pulling him along. In that moment, you could see the young Lucius and Narcissa in the couple's aged faces, full of life and excitement. They didn't look like murderers, not even close.  
"What is it, Cissy?" Lucius asked, smiling fondly at his doll-like wife.  
She shook her head minutely and dragged him fully into the room. Lucius took one look at the assortment of people stood beside his fireplace and an expression of absolute confusion fell on his face. His blonde ponytail whipped back and forth as he scanned each face for an explanation, finding none.  
"What on earth is going on?" he asked, eventually, his voice tired and not half as proud as it had once been.  
Hermione prodded Draco pointedly. He offered her a half-hearted glare and stepped forward, explaining the situation once more.

When his son had stopped talking, Lucius blinked, and glanced awkwardly at his perfectly composed wife, as if to ask if their boy had taken leave of his senses. Narcissa smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand when she thought no one was looking. She linked her skinny arms through her husband's and turned back to their rescue party expectantly.  
"Where to?" she asked Dumbledore, politely.  
He smiled at her genially, looking every inch the doting grandfather.  
"We shall continue onto one of the Order of the Phoenix's safe houses," he answered, gently. "And there we will leave you."

Lucius' eyes were flickering between his son and Hermione suspiciously, but he remained silent, evidently acknowledging that he needed his son's help- he was in too deep with Voldemort and it was time to get out. If he felt any scorn or disgust at the lack of blood purity in his son's rescue party, he didn't show it- nodding respectfully towards Dumbledore, a known 'Muggle-lover' and inclining his head towards Hermione. He had resumed his usual mask-like expression, not even altering it as he, Narcissa, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Draco and Hermione stepped into his fireplace. Some of his regality appeared to be coming back to him.

"The Burrow!" shouted Dumbledore, and with a puff of green smoke, the group flooed straight to the Weasley's residence.  
Hermione and Draco exchanged amused looks, both curious to see what his parents' reaction would be to staying in the infamous blood-traitors' home. To their surprise, however, no insults were forthcoming, indeed pleasant shock was instead written across the elder Malfoys' faces.

Narcissa and Lucius looked about their new home, taking in the size of the room they had just flooed into. Evidently, the blood-traitors had a sizable house, even if it lacked the grandeour of their own Manor. They walked out of the fireplace in a state of curiousity, unaware of everyone's attention on them. Minerva's lips were pinched, preventing any laughter escaping, and Albus' were twitching slightly in humour. The Malfoys looked like the first years upon arrival at Hogwarts, their expressions a mixture of wonder and amazement.

"Molly? Arthur?" Professor McGonagall called, turning to the Malfoys, "I expect you to be civil."  
Narcissa Malfoy's eyebrows arched dangerously, but she remained silent, clutching her husband's hand tightly.

Molly Weasley wandered out of her kitchen, smiling hospitably.  
"Hello, come in, come in!" she called, waving them into the food-scented room. "I'm heating some stew, Fawkes warned me of your arrival, clever bird."  
Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a glance but wandered in slowly. Hermione strode in after them, stroking the phoenix that sat on the table. Fawkes had a smug look upon his face and a plate of owl treats at his feet. Evidently, Molly had no idea what phoenixes ate. Come to think of it, neither did she.

Molly waved Hermione over for a hug, exclaiming, "Hermione, haven't you _grown_?"  
Hermione grinned sheepishly, hugging her second-mother back fondly. Molly turned towards her guests, beam not faltering.  
"Lucius, Narcissa- you are quite welcome to stay here as long as you wish," she greeted them, warmly, anxious to start this new development on good terms.

Narcissa's cold exterior melted. It had been so long since someone had treated her kindly- the Dark Lord most certainly didn't, the general public treated her like scum, and Lucius was so stressed he was rarely affectionate anymore. She felt like the vulnerable, love starved child she had been before she arrived at Hogwarts, having spent years in the company of her cold parents and insane and indifferent sisters with little outside contact. Stepping forward, she awkwardly hugged the woman she and her family had turned their noses at for years. To her surprise, shedding her prejudice was exhilarating rather than terrifying. She turned to Molly.  
"Thank you," she said, gratefully, "You are very kind."

Lucius nodded in agreement, formally shaking the witch's hand. Draco cringed at his father's out-of-place actions. _Oh, my God, dad..._ Hermione smirked at him.  
"Shut up," he hissed, blushing profusely.  
She sniggered, and, after a while, he joined in too, the pair of them oblivious to the five adults watching them. Each adult's calculating gaze had reached one conclusion, though it was obvious neither teenager had yet reached this point. They exchanged knowing smiles.

"Ahem," coughed Dumbledore, hiding his smirk, "I think we should say our goodbyes and be on our way."  
There was a flurry of farewells, until, suddenly, Narcissa leant forward and hugged Hermione. Her touch was gentle and motherly, which shattered all of Hermione's previous misconceptions about the woman. She hugged her back tightly, thinking of her own mother, sat at home, unaware of her daughter being in danger.  
"Please look after Draco," Narcissa breathed, "And yourself, of course."  
Hermione struggled to not look amazed. She nodded and smiled faintly at Draco's mother, and followed Draco, Dumbledore and McGonagall into the fireplace. The last thing she saw as they flooed back to Hogwarts was Narcissa's tear streaked face as she clasped her husband and Molly's hands.

**Please review!  
bookweasel**


	9. Chapter 9

**I re-read Chapter 6 and found I'd got some timing problems- Harry doesn't see Slughorn's memory (the tampered one) until after the Christmas holidays. I've edited Chapters 6 and 7 to reflect this- nothing drastic enough to require re-reading, I've just changed it so the events in Chapters 6 until this chapter happen a few days after the holidays, instead of the day they arrive back at Hogwarts. Sorry for the mistake- you just need to know that by now Ron, Harry and Hermione know Tom Riddle enquired about horcruxes at school, and Hermione, being smart, has researched them and found that they are things, and they have therefore made the logical conclusion that Riddle has made at least one. Okay, maybe you might want to re-read the end of Chapter 6...**

The instant the group arrived back in Dumbledore's Office, swathed in green plumes of smoke, Hermione and Draco separated from their teachers. Hermione's brown eyes were wide and frantic as she spoke, darting between her professors and the door.  
"We have to go- the Malfoy's absence could be noticed any time!" she said, urgency colouring her tone.  
Beside her, Draco cast his friend a concerned look but she shrugged off his worry.  
"I'm fine," she mouthed.

Professor Dumbledore held out his hand for the two to shake, and his words were completely sincere when he said, "I wish you luck on your mission."  
McGonagall's jaw dropped, her Scottish brogue thickening. "Albus! You can't possibly allow them to go hunt horcruxes alone!"  
"Why not?" Hermione snapped, losing her temper with her argumentative Head of House. "No one else is, are they?"  
McGonagall's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "You would do well to watch your tone, Miss Granger. Besides, you still have the Trace."  
"I'm of age!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly. "I haven't had the Trace since September!"  
"But none of your friends are of age!" McGonagall retorted. "This is a fool's mission!"  
"Regardless," Hermione forced herself to remain calm. "We _will_ find the horcruxes. I swear on it."

McGonagall turned away in disbelief as Hermione and Draco left the office. Hermione's face was scarlet and she felt her mind whirring in agitation. _How could she have forgotten the Trace?_

Hermione and Draco hurried to the Room of Requirement in silence, ignoring the startled looks of the students they passed in the corridors. _Since when had _**Malfoy **_and _**Granger**_ been pals?_

_"_We need to leave now, Harry, Ron," Hermione gasped as soon as she was through the Room's doors.  
The other members of the DA's heads jolted up at her words. Many cast her indignant glares and scowls.  
"Hey, what about us?" Ginny protested, gesturing at the twins, Neville, Luna, Cho and herself; her ears reddening in anger.  
Hermione cast an apologetic glance, giving the others a small, sympathetic smile.  
"I'm sorry Gin, it's not safe," she replied, aware how hollow her reasoning was, and unsurprised at the flush of ire on Ginny's face. Ginny cocked one eyebrow, glaring.  
"Everyone but you, Cho, Fred and George is underage- Ron and Harry and Malfoy aren't," she reasoned. "Only you four can do magic without the Ministry knowing- everyone but you still has the Trace!"  
Hermione scowled in resignation, accepting her friend's point, as Draco chortled in amusement. It was true, only Hermione, Cho and the twins could do magic and travel without the Ministry knowing, and this was a massive flaw in their plan.

She cast her mind back to a book she had read over the summer, Magical Law Enforcement, and recalled a short paragraph beside a case study demonstrating its point.  
"We're seventeen," she said slowly. "So I _think_ any magic anyone else does in our presence will be attributed to us. So the Ministry _may _or _may not_ be able to locate us... grr! This is so confusing!"  
So far, Hermione had had no huge brainwave with a solution. The Trace legislation had been very vague when she had read it and she was nonplussed as to the actual rules regarding it. She knew that wizarding families were expected to control their children's use of magic as the Ministry didn't know whether it was the underage children or their parents who were performing the magic, but did that mean their parents' using magic kind of _masked_ the children's? She shrugged and glanced at Harry.  
"Harry, Grimmauld Place has magic preventing anyone you don't want visiting coming, doesn't it?" she asked.  
Harry spoke up, confusion etched all over his face.  
"Yes, I'm Secret Keeper," he confirmed, "Why?"  
"Well," Hermione mused aloud. "I _think_ I'll be able to manipulate that so that even if anyone underage _does_ use magic and it _isn't_ assumed to be Cho, Fred, George or I, the Ministry won't be able to locate us. If I make it unplottable, for instance... It's worth a try, right? And I think I'll be able to break the Trace on you lot, once I've read up on it..."  
The others exchanged confused looks and shrugged, evidently placing their trust in Hermione  
"Yeah, you _would_ break the Trace," Draco teased, "After all, what problem can the _Brightest Witch of Our Age_ **not** solve?"

Hermione blushed and elbowed him sharply, smiling embarrassedly. He gave her a wounded look, the pair of them completely missing the varying glances of amusement flicking between the DA. Ron's face was an impressively Uncle Vernon-like puce, and his ears were scarlet. Ginny caught Harry's eye and they sniggered secretly.

The two former enemies, Hermione and Draco, snapped out of their trances and reddened slightly. Draco turned his long pointed face towards Harry, trying to save face and distract attention from him and Hermione.  
"We should fly there, Pothead," he suggested, an evil glint in his eye.  
Harry stood up straighter, jaw clenched at the obvious challenge in Draco's words.  
"_Deal,_ Ferret."

Hermione groaned internally. The skies were swarming with Death Eaters wrecking havoc across muggle England, shooting down aeroplanes and the like. Trust two _boys_ to take that risk just to prove to each other that they had the balls to do it. They'd get everyone killed... not forgetting that Hermione Granger liked to keep her feet on the ground, thank you very much.

**DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM HGDMHGDMH**

Ten minutes later, Hermione Granger was sat on the back of Draco Malfoy's brand new broom, gripping him as tightly as she could. God, she _hated_ flying. Draco did a loop-di-loop in the indigo starry sky, laughing aloud as Hermione screeched and hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his back. Neither of them noticed Ginny watching them with calculating eyes, but if they had, would they have even cared? No one had wanted to share a broom with a known Death Eater- albeit an unwilling one. It appeared that Hermione's good reference for Draco was not enough for her friends, and for this Hermione was a tad peeved. Harry was being annoyingly smug- he was right, he gloated, he'd been saying all along that Draco had the Dark Mark and he was _right_.

With his arms stretched forward to grip his broom, Draco's cloak sleeves had whipped backwards, baring his marked arm to the world. Hermione eyed the skull and serpent with extreme distaste but she couldn't deny that watching the snake slither around the skull was _intoxicating_. It was, although dark and evil, extremely beautiful- almost mesmerising. She shook her head abruptly. She shouldn't be thinking this- that tattoo was Draco's link to Voldemort, for goodness sake! It was the flying, she convinced herself weakly, it always made her feel funny.

Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione's face illuminated by the ivory shine of the moon. She looked so _alive_- so beautiful. How had he never realised this before?

"You alright?" he asked quietly, noticing the faint sheen on her face. She was gnawing her lip agitatedly, her eyes looking anywhere but at the ground.  
Hermione nodded awkwardly.  
"I just feel a bit... nauseous," she mumbled, pressing her eyes shut and pulling herself closer to him so that his spine pressed into her soft cheek.

Draco swooped down over muggle London, following the tail of Harry's Firebolt (or Ginny's red waves streaming behind her, Hermione thought). The remainder of the DA had been flying for a day, from Hogwarts to London. They were all knackered, and Hermione seriously hoped Kreacher was still at Grimmauld Place because otherwise they wouldn't get anything for dinner. No one was awake enough to stand and cook food but they were all _starving_.

Finally, they began to fly lower and lower until...  
"Draco, welcome to 12 Grimmauld Place."  
Harry's quiet voice was vaguely hospitable, although with a barbed edge to it that expressed his still hostile attitude to Draco. Malfoy himself gazed up at the house before him, his eyes round in amazement.  
"This is my mum's cousin Sirius' old house, right?" he asked, seeking confirmation.  
Harry leaned closer to him. So Narcissa Malfoy had told her son about her wayward cousin, had she? Interesting.  
"Yeah," he replied eagerly, "What exactly did your mum say about Siri-"  
"Not _now_, Harry!" Hermione's voice ripped through the air, sharp and irate, "We're still in the open! Let's get inside."

She led the way, Draco and the DA following her silently. This was the beginning of their plan to kill Voldemort- first step, leave school. Somehow Draco was both terrified and excited.

**We don't really find out great deal about the Trace from the books- I know it alerts the Ministry if someone does underage magic, I'm guessing from its name that it also allows the Ministry to trace that person's location. I ****_think _****an adult's presence means that they will be assumed to have done the magic rather than the child, which shows the Trace isn't too accurate, so I'm using that loophole so that everyone can do magic as long as Hermione's about, 'cause the Ministry will assume Hermione did it. I also assume that if Hermione makes Grimmauld Place unplottable the Ministry will only be able to detect underage magic, not locate it.  
I hope that makes sense, and if it doesn't, it doesn't really matter because Hermione's going to break the Trace soon anyway so it's irrelevant. If you ****_do_**** know more about it, please let me know!****  
Finally, reviews make my day :D  
bookweasel**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the wait between updates, I've been away :)**

The DA threw themselves untidily onto the assortment of chairs in the Dining Room of Grimmauld Place, yawning and rubbing their eyes tiredly.  
"I'm knackered!" Harry moaned, slouching back into his chair and rubbing his eyes.  
Ginny rolled her eyes at his antics, rising slowly from her chair. Her eyes flashed to Hermione, sat beside Draco, and she fixed a sweet smile on her lips.  
"Hermione, mind helping me fixing up some tea for this lot?" she asked, gesturing towards the kitchen once occupied by her mother.  
Hermione glanced at her, and back at Draco.  
"You'll be ok on your own with everyone?" she checked quietly.  
He scrunched up his nose as he glanced around at the people whose company he would be left in.  
"I'll _survive_," he replied, his disdain clear in his voice, though he flashed her a mischievous grin when he thought no one was watching. Hermione slapped the back of his head lightly in retaliation, turning back to Ginny.  
"Yeah, 'course."

Ginny beamed, striding into the kitchen happily and pulling out a few mugs from the cupboard. She flicked the magical kettle on, and, once the noise of boiling water was loud enough to muffle her words for any eavesdroppers, she dropped her charade.  
"So, you and Malfoy, _eh_?" her voice took on an teasing lilt.  
Hermione blushed scarlet, turning away.  
"_No_."  
Ginny smirked. "Yeah, right. I guessed you had a secret boyfriend, you've acted funny all term, I just didn't guess _Malfoy_."  
"Who _did_ you guess?" Hermione blurted, more out of curiosity than anything. "... not that Draco and I _are_ a couple."  
Ginny stifled a laugh, ticking names off her fingers. "Macmillan... Boot... Even McLaggen, until I heard about you and him at Slughorn's Christmas party."  
"Urgh, don't remind me," Hermione leant against the kitchen worktop. "_That _was a big mistake."  
"...But I thought you liked Ron," Ginny pressed, folding her arms. "Not that I ever understood _why_ but still..."  
"I _do_ still like Ron!" Hermione insisted, squashing her wavering doubts to the back of her mind.  
Ginny snorted. "Yeah, whatever." She sighed. "You don't have to lie to me, 'Mione. I'm your friend, you know that?"

**DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM HGDMHGDMH**

Hermione slumped back against the side of Malfoy's bed, her head pounding. No one trusted Draco enough to share a room with him, and, as she was the one who had vouched for him, and could do un-detected magic to protect herself (if needs be) from him, she was given the task of watching him throughout the night.

It was bloody ridiculous, she griped furiously, glancing with a fond smile at Draco's sleeping form. His baby-soft, white-blonde hair was tousled, half covering his face- though not thoroughly enough to disguise him sucking his thumb. Draco looked vulnerable, innocent, in his slumber, not at all the big bad Death Eater the others saw him as. His long white face was creaseless, the frown he'd been sporting recently- gone. Looking at him now, Hermione could almost forget years worth of tormenting, could ignore the black Dark Mark gloating at her from his ivory arm, could understand why Narcissa Malfoy doted so on her son. She wished she could line the others up before him and tell them to look, ask them if they had ever seen a more angelic sight, if they believed this _child_ was capable of murder.

Hermione swiped a sneaky peek at the underside of Draco's arm- and not for the first time that night. She felt almost compelled to look at it, like some kind of addict. _A Dark Mark addict_, she scoffed. Hermione wondered with morbid curiosity at the tattoo. Had Draco got it on the premise that he _would_ kill Dumbledore, or had he killed someone else to achieve such an honour? Merlin, she couldn't bear to think about it.

But, there was _something_, definitely. The Mark screamed evil. _Well_, Hermione's ever rational mind supplied helpfully_, It does contain traces of dark magic... done by Lord Voldemort himself_-

"_BLOODY HELL!"_

**DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM HGDMHGDMH**

Ten minutes later, all eight of the remaining DA members and Draco were sat in Grimmauld Place's high-ceilinged draughty lounge. Hermione's lips were raw ribbons, her nails bitten to the quick, her feet protesting after 600 seconds of intense pacing, and her brow furrowed so fiercely she could practically feel wrinkles forming.

Finally, an irate Draco spoke up. His hair was stuck up in a most un-Malfoy manner, and he was shivering, clad only in emerald-green silk pyjamas and fluffy socks, and sporting a tremendous scowl.  
"Granger," he snapped, "You have awoken me at _four o'clock in the bloody morning_ to have me watch you pace and chew your lips and nails. We could have done this at another time- hell, I see it every year come exam-time anyway- you'd better have a bloody good reason, Muddy."  
"_Don't her that!_" Ron snarled immediately, clenching his fists as his ears flushed dangerously.  
Hermione waved one absentminded hand, barely listening anyway.  
"I don't care. Ssh, Ron," she raked her fingers through her tangled mane distractedly. Ron settled back in his chair sulkily.  
"Right," Hermione exhaled slowly and began. "We have a slight conundrum, folks."

Ron's arched eyebrows disappeared into his red hair.  
"Damn right," he agreed, "We're all sleeping under the same roof as a flaming _Death Eater_."  
Draco remained impressively impassive.  
"I wasn't aware I was on fire," he quipped mildly.  
Hermione shrugged awkwardly. "You're not," she said quietly. "But you might wish you were."  
Silence fell. All eyes were on Hermione.

"Draco- _everyone_- do you remember how Igor Karkaroff's death came about?"  
The response was instantaneous: Ron paled. Harry flinched. Cho closed her eyes. Neville winced. The twins exchanged a meaningful glance. Ginny swore. Luna sucked in a deep breath.  
"_What?_" hissed Draco, frantically.  
Hermione turned to him, her eyes too large in her waxen face.  
"Thing is, Draco, we've been worrying about the Trace," she laughed harshly. "When there's an even worse possibility that never crossed our minds. Draco...Voldemort tracked him," she swallowed. "Using his Dark Mark."  
Every eye flicked apprehensively to Draco's arm.  
"_Shit._"

**Please review!  
bookweasel**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello all, just to say that I'm going away for two weeks on Saturday. I'm not sure when I'll be able to upload next- my dad tends to put the laptop in the attic and not bother to bring it down for a while after, so it could be a while before the next chapter. Rest assured that I'll be scribbling away in the meantime, writing new chapters!  
Um, there's a few f-bombs in here, just so you know...**

Hours, or maybe days, passed before anyone spoke. No one's gaze had shifted from Draco, so the owner of the first voice came as a relative surprise.  
"So- what do we do?"  
All eyes flicked to Neville, each bearing a different degree of disbelief.  
"Longbottom?" Draco stared incredulously at the boy, young man really, stood before him, the subject of his bullying for many years. Why on earth would he want to help his tormentor? "_You _have a brain?"  
He couldn't help it, he swore. The quips _just rose_ to his mouth whenever he was in Longbottom's presence.  
"_Draco!_" Hermione slapped his arm. "Play nice!"  
He shrugged her off with a smirk and a sarcastic sneer. "Yes, _dear_."  
Hermione elbowed him sharply in the side, ignoring his harsh intake of breath and smiling sweetly at Neville. "You were saying?"

Neville continued on fairly casually, bearing in mind he had just seen his friend and former enemy exchange banter like an old married couple.  
"Um, yeah. We need a plan, 'cause otherwise You-" his voice wobbled a little, "You-Know-Who'll track Malfoy here through his Mark and kill us all. We need to get rid of Malfoy's Mark."  
There was a long pause until- _clap, clap_. Everyone turned to stare at Draco, Neville with considerable trepidation.  
"So far, so bloody obvious, Longbottom," Draco sneered, a smirk marring his pointed features. "Tell me, do you have any more _profound_ statements, or can we get on with some ideas that might even be _fucking useful?_"  
Neville shrank back, cowed, but Harry leapt to his defence, his hero-complex rearing its head once again. Hermione was torn between punching him or Draco.  
"Tetchy, aren't we, Malfoy?" he taunted, coldly, much to Hermione's despair. "Scared?"

Draco span round, quickly striding over to his childhood nemesis and staring down at him.  
"Fucking terrified, Potter, thank you for your concern," he replied curtly. "We're talking imminent death."  
Harry raised his eyebrows pointedly. "What, like I've been facing every day since your bloody master's return?"  
Hermione leapt to her feet abruptly, grabbing hold of her friend's pyjama sleeve. "Come on, Harry, that's not fair!"  
He turned to her, staring at her hand on his arm until she let him go awkwardly. "_Not fair?_ He's a bloody Death Eater, 'Mione!"  
She glared at him forcefully, moving to stand beside Draco as a sign of unity and support. "He's a Death Eater in name and Mark only, Harry, as you know. I trust him- I'd trust him with my life. You'll just have to accept that, though I confess I'm upset that my word evidently isn't good enough!"

Harry stared at her, the rest of the DA fanned out behind him, wide-eyed. _If it comes to a fight, _Hermione realised_, Draco and I are screwed._ She quickly threw her wand on the ground and waited until Draco and Harry did too, albeit reluctantly. She didn't trust either of them not to use magic in a fight, and they still had the Trace. Everything would be over.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sounding genuine. "I _do _trust you, honest."  
Hermione smiled gently. "Good. Now, Draco and I will go upstairs. I guess you lot will want to talk. Try to come up with some useful ideas for getting rid of the Dark Mark, okay? Night."  
Harry nodded slowly. Hermione scooped up her and Draco's wands and dragged him by his sleeve out of the door. Draco jerked, startled, but quickly recovered, striding in his elegant Malfoy manner by her side.

She slammed the door, and Draco turned upon her the moment it was shut. His blonde hair was dishevelled and his pale eyes wide and angry. "What the hell was that?"  
Hermione stared back coolly, her flushed cheeks in stark contrast to her icy demeanour.  
"What was what, Draco?" she snapped back.  
He glared, grabbing her by her shoulders and pushing her against the wall. His face was so close to hers she could feel as well as hear his huffed, angry breaths.  
"You know exactly what I mean!" he spat, his spittle painting her face. "I don't need defending- not by you!"  
Hermione shoved him away harshly, her face contorted in fury. "_By me?_ What, by the filthy mudblood? I was only trying to help!"  
"I don't give a shit about your blood purity, " he snarled, angry in his confusion. "_Why?_"  
"Because I'm your _friend_," she gasped, feeling as though her lungs had been punctured, her hurt was so great. "Aren't I?"  
He didn't answer.

Draco didn't sleep a wink that night and he was certain that Hermione didn't either. His offer to let her sleep on the sole bed in his room was declined icily; instead she slumped uncomfortably on the floor, throwing him frosty glares. He wished he knew what to say.

The morning wasn't much better. She was up and dressed by the time he had stirred, though she was at least sat at the end of his bed... glaring. "Hermione-"  
"What?" her voice was clipped. Draco summed up him courage and every scrap of information he had gleaned from Pansy about dealing with girls. "I'm sorry." _Silence_. What, did she expect him to go all emotional? One look at her scowling face was enough to tell him that yes, yes she did. _Deep breaths, Draco_. "I'm not used to having friends who actually give a shit about my well-being," he confessed, reluctantly. "I guess having a proper friend is new to me." He cringed. _Feelings crap. Bleh._

Still, as he had hoped. Hermione had softened. She uncrossed her arms and leant over to his side of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him, enclosing his body in a tight cocoon, and rested her pointed chin on his shoulder.  
"Draco," she whispered. "I'm sincerely sorry but you're going to have to get used to someone giving a shit about you because I had no desire to stop."  
She squeezed him tight, hearing his constricted intake of breath and feeling his taut posture. _He's not used to human contact. That's so... sad._ She swallowed harshly and hugged him closer.

**Not hinting or anything, but it'd be great to come back off holiday to find my inbox clogged up with reviews!  
bookweasel**


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